Spring Poem

Spring

(written after reading Don Share's Union)Okay, here goes -something new, which is alwaysbetter than the old,unless the old is you, or me,and one zooms to Tut and his wrappings,which had their spring awakeningonly when the tomb was broken intowhich is a bit like a tuber, or bulbor whatever flowers really arebeing decrypted from the soil;and sometimes birth and floweringappear creepy, sort of B-Movieish,but we don't mention that so muchwhen dancing in the spring rain,with e.e.'s balloon man, who,nowadays, would be, bluntly,creepy too. Very.I am forcing a thing here, a style,because my head has no voice,only desires to appear reasonablewhen being strip searched,or ordering decaf lattes. I want,in all fairness, to get along,little doggy, with the days as they gofrom out of my skin and diaries,flying off somewhere like those blossomsthat represent what's best about springand then enguttered, filthy-pinkafter some rain bashing, enhance nothing,and appear as my thoughts often do,unintentionally grubby, barely hidden,flung out suddenly for all the worldto see, which all the world doesn't, though,since, all things being equal, why wouldthe world bother to notice such things?March 20, 2013by Todd Swift